


it's the start of something now (it feels so right to be here with you)

by independentalto



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, i guess you could say "and they were roommates", roommates au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:00:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25139644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/independentalto/pseuds/independentalto
Summary: After getting cancelled on for the third time, Mack resolves to resuscitate his best friend's night by taking her on a date. Only he's not the one she's dating.
Relationships: Alphonso "Mack" Mackenzie/Yo Yo Rodriguez
Comments: 14
Kudos: 23





	it's the start of something now (it feels so right to be here with you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TomatoBookworm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomatoBookworm/gifts).



> based off of the prompt from TomatoBookworm "I'm taking you on a date" and mackelena. thanks for the prompt!

SLAM.  _ “Stupid, selfish, son of a –!”  _

Mack looked mildly up from the couch at the sound of the door, raising an eyebrow at the curses that followed it. It hadn’t been long since Elena’d left for her date with Damon Keller – unless he’d found a way to time travel, he was pretty sure she’d left five minutes ago. 

“Quick date,” he remarked as she stomped back into the apartment, slinging her jean jacket onto a chair and immediately going to the fridge for a beer. “What happened?” 

“Bastard cancelled on me again is what happened,” Elena seethed, popping the top off of the beer forcefully enough to send it flying across the room. “Third time in a row, too, I don’t know why I thought this time’d be the charm –” Sighing, she crossed their small living room to plop into the corner armchair, swivelling to Mack with a smooth swagger. “Hot date with Professor May’s readings?” 

“You should know.” Both of them had, by complete coincidence, wound up in Melinda May’s famed Sociology 348, a harrowing twelve weeks of lecture on social networks. “I swear sometimes she goes out of her way to assign us the densest readings possible.” 

Elena was silent for a while, content to take a long swig of her beer and watch her best friend. There was something about the way he occupied space in a silence – it wasn’t intrusive nor overly present, like most men she knew to be. Mack tried his best to blend in with whatever background he was in, whether he meant to or not. And she, with the vocabulary of a sailor and loud personality to match, was everything he wasn’t. 

She knew Mack was capable of executing an action if the circumstances called for it, don’t get her wrong. It just happened to be after measured thinking, something many people had told her she lacked in spades. Maybe it was why they meshed so well together: she with the reactionary temper of a firecracker, he with a ‘slow but steady wins the race’ rationality. 

Love was fickle and insecure; this she knew. And if push came to shove, Elena figured she could live without love. But she’d be damned if she ever had to live without the solid friendship of Alphonso Mackenzie. 

After a while, Mack groaned, shutting his laptop and casting it aside with a slight look of disgust. “You know what? It’s Friday night. I hope you’ve still got energy, Yo-Yo,” he called as he headed to his room. Even though he couldn’t see her, he still laughed when she grimaced at the nickname. (Apparently, you chuck a yo-yo at your misogynistic professor’s head once during freshman year and you never live it down.) 

“Why?” Elena asked, eyeing her now empty beer bottle. Her eyes widened when Mack emerged in a leather jacket and jeans, stomach flopping just a little bit. “Am I  about to third-wheel you?” 

“What? No,” Mack scooped her jean jacket from the chair and handed it over before grabbing his wallet from their dining table. “Just because Keller couldn’t keep his shit together doesn’t mean you should waste the outfit. C’mon, I’m taking you out on a date.”

* * *

She was on a date. 

She was on a  _ date _ . With her  _ best friend _ . 

She was on a date...with her best friend? Whichever way she put it, the combination of words still sounded strange to Elena. Ten minutes ago she’d been  ready to garrot Keller for having cancelled on her for the third time, now she was clinging tightly to Mack’s broad back as they zipped down the 10 on his  motorcycle, lights flashing in the peripherals of her vision. 

(While the context of what they were doing was confusing, there was no denying getting to cling to Mack’s abs was an absolute treat.) 

So far, any questions she’d tried to ask him about their supposed date had been lost to the wind, amplifying her curiosity. How many other girls had Mack taken on dates just like this? Had they all clung to him as tightly as she had? At least she knew none of them had been his best friend: that title was hers and hers alone. 

But best friends didn’t _date_. And now here they were, back to this conundrum. Had she thought about Mack in a romantic context? Sure she had – she had eyes, and he’d been there for her more times than she could count. But had she thought about being his _girlfriend?_ The notion was ridiculous. Plus, she was dating someone. Damon...Damon something. Keller. Keller was his name.

Maybe she needed to rethink her relationship. Relationships. 

The engine rumbled to a stop as Mack pulled into a parking space, sliding off of the bike before holding out a hand to her. She gave him a bemused look and swung her leg over, sliding off of the bike with ease. “You had to have known I wouldn’t take it.” 

“Which brings me to my next point.” Shaking the hair out of her helmet, she looked up at him to see his featured contorted into seriousness. “I know I said it was a date, but I don’t want you to think about it that way if you don’t want to. At most, think of it as the date you were _supposed_ to go on tonight. And at the very least, think of it as me taking you out in pity.” 

There it was – the old Mackenzie snark. “I don’t need your pity, Turtleman,” she chuckled, the neon signage of their destination catching her eye. “Axe throwing? Either you’re just trying to help me get my rage out or this is the perfect first date.” 

His answering grin was nothing short of infuriating, leaving her both confused and slightly insulted. “Like I said, it’s whatever you want it to be.”

* * *

Twenty throws and a barrage of wood chips later, it turned out that a couple of  rounds of axe throwing were both. 

Elena had taken a vindictive kind of pleasure in her first couple of throws, her axes nearly bouncing off of each other as they hit the dead center of the target. “Remind  me never to keep axes in the apartment,” Mack murmured as her current target was replaced with a fresh one. “Something tells me that’s  _ not  _ how I’d like to die.” 

He, on the other hand, was surprisingly awful despite his precision in almost every other activity he did. Each of his attempts left Elena nearly in tears from laughing so hard, at one point needing to wipe her tears with the sleeve of her jacket. “You mean to tell me you can make a quiche without a recipe, assemble anything from IKEA without instructions, yet you can’t hit a target with an axe?” The revelation sent her into a fresh wave of laughter while Mack frowned at her, pouting. “I’m sorry, it’s just too funny.” 

Another axe whizzed over the target, nearly embedding itself in the wall. “I think you’ll have to teach me,” Mack admitted, gnawing at his lip. It made Elena want to gently pull said lip back and give it a tiny kiss. “Wouldn’t want to cause any property damage.” 

She flicked her eyes over to the far side of the room, where an axe was embedded into the wall. “Trust me, I don’t think you can do any more than  _ that  _ guy.” 

“You want to take bets, Rodriguez?” 

“I thought you just said you wanted to avoid property damage. Pick one, Mack. You can only have one.” 

“Just teach me what I’m missing, Yo-Yo,” he admonished, but he was smiling. “Believe it or not, we have other places to be.” 

“Other places?” Elena echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Gee, Mack. You really do know how to treat a lady.” Still, she grasped his wrist delicately, lifting his left to encase his right, which was holding the axe. “It’s all in the wrist,” she murmured. “That’s what gives it the spin and helps it travel to the target. Arms higher. Go higher than you think you need to be.” 

“Like this?” 

“That’s good.” Together, she in front and him in the rear, they raised the axe and threw it, watching in horror as it immediately assumed a downward trajectory and buried itself in the floor. “Whoops.” 

“Yeah, whoops indeed.” Elena just rolled her eyes and went back to throwing axes at her target, even throwing one one-handed just to show off. When she wasn’t looking, Mack simply slung the axe towards the target, hiding a grin when it stuck itself firmly into the 50 region. 

“Wha –” She’d caught the throw out of the corner of her eye, gaping when it met its mark. “How did you hit the 50?? You completely missed the target the last time  you threw!” 

“What can I say? I had a good teacher,” he shrugged, eyes twinkling, and picked up another axe. “I will say, though, I think she was definitely more focused on my  grip than my execution.” 

(Elena didn’t have to dignify a response for that one, did she?)

* * *

Their second stop turned out to be one of Los Angeles’ many food truck fairs. “See, I think of food trucks as the perfect balance when you’re not sure what you want out of a date,” Mack explained as they stepped into the arena of food trucks, the chatter of various patrons filling their ears. “No expectations because, well, they’re food trucks, but the food’s also good. So there can be expectations if you want there to be any.” 

As it was, Elena was already eyeing the fried chicken truck. “My expectations have been set,” she said, pointing. “Bruxie’s Fried Chicken. This truck’s probably the best chicken this side of the Third Street Promenade.” It was a guilty pleasure she let herself indulge in anytime she found herself on the west side, which was just rare enough that getting to have it was a treat. “Do you trust me, Turtleman?” 

The eyebrow raise he gave her was way too committal for whatever non-date she’d been trying to tell herself they were on. But she’d think about it later. “Do I have a choice?” 

“And here I thought we were friends,” He still let her guide him through the throng and into the line, both of them taking a moment to contemplate their orders. 

When he’d offered her the option for their outing to not be a date, Mack’d honestly expected Elena to laugh the offer off entirely – after all, who went on a date with their best friend without acknowledging that they at least had feelings for said best friend? It was a ludicrous idea. And yet, here they were, the unspoken simmering between them. Were they on a date? Or was this simply just a more extravagant outing than they were used to? 

If it’d been anyone else, Mack would’ve felt comfortable calling the occasion a date as soon as they’d stepped into the axe-throwing venue. But this was Elena he was talking about – Elena, who shot the shit with him without a care in the world and had a touch that saw straight to his soul when she put a hand on his shoulder. Elena, who dragged him willingly along whenever she bulldozed her way through life. Who, despite his hesitancy and need to meditate on decisions, decided to stick by him regardless. 

A date implied that there was an inkling of romantic feelings. But if they weren’t there – or they were ridiculously one-sided – he’d rather it not have been a date  then lose the woman that’d been by his side the last four years. 

“...Turtleman. Earth to Turtleman.  _ Earth  _ to Turtleman. Mack!” 

Mack was snapped out of his reverie by Elena prodding his nose a few times, the look on the cashier’s face both concerned and amused. “Sorry, I’ll have...” Shit.  “Chicken and waffles,” he said, blurting out the first thing that caught his eye. “I’ll take the chicken and waffles, please.” 

“Where did you go?” Elena asked, handing her card over before he could protest.  “And before you Venmo me, I just want you to know that if you do, I’ll send it back to you with a note so embarrassing it might cause your mother to call you up right  then and there.” 

Mack shuddered. He had no doubt Elena would follow up; he’d just have to find a way to make it up to her some other time. “Nowhere in particular,” he said instead.  “Kind of just drifted.” 

She gave him a look that told him she didn’t believe it for a second. “Whatever you say, Turtleman.” 

Their chicken arrived during a particularly intense game of Connect Four,  both of them squinting at each other in anticipation of their next move. “Just drop it, Yo-Yo,” Mack said, pointing from his eyes to hers. “I’m watching you.”  Slowly, Elena dropped her token in, the black circle making a little  _ clack  _ sound;  she reached for the chicken but kept her eyes on Mack. “Connect. Four.” 

“Wha –” Mack looked in bewilderment at the board, a slow smile stretching across Elena’s face as he realized he’d been outplayed. “Yo-Yo!” 

“Should’ve stopped after the third game,” she said, opening the box to a waft of steam. “Mmm, chicken and waffles.” Tucking in, she saw Mack still staring at the board, his face crestfallen. “C’mon, Turtleman. Have the food before it gets cold.”

* * *

“I can’t believe you’ve done this.” The bright lights of the Santa Monica wheel shone above them, and it took all Elena had in her to _not_ give Mack a look of betrayal. And they’d been doing so well... “A tourist trap, Turtleman? Really?” 

“Look, you’re the one who’s said they’ve never been on any of the rides here since you moved to L.A.,” Mack defended. “How badly can it be if you’ve never been on it?” 

Elena gestured wildly to the long line of people in line, many of them taking selfies. 

“You wanna say it’s not a tourist trap again? The line’s a mile long!” 

“You exaggerate.” He waved a hand, the two of them stepping into the queue. Wow. She was really doing this, huh? After four long years of cynically regarding the Santa Monica Pier to anyone who would listen, she was about to embark on its biggest landmark. Karma had a way of coming around sometimes. And as much as she was loathe to admit it, Mack was right, their entry into the line followed by their admittance to the ride not five minutes later, the chatter and lights of the boardwalk quickly fading away as they rose into the air. “You know, it’s not too bad,” she admitted grudgingly during their first stop, gazing out at the ocean and its widespread waves. Everything looked so much vaster now that they were up in the air – it gave her a whole new appreciation for the ocean. “Guess you were right after all, Turtleman.” 

“Yeah, well.” His expression was sheepish. “Since when have you known me to be  wrong?” 

That earned him a shove on the shoulder, causing their basket to rock precariously. “All the time, and you know it.” But despite her incredulity throughout the entire night, Mack hadn’t gotten a single destination of their date (not a date? She still didn’t know.) wrong. Elena couldn’t think of another person who would’ve been able to read her so well, nor could she think of someone she’d want to have that ability. 

Mack was...Mack was Mack. To describe him as anything else would be doing him a disservice, because there was no other combination of caring, humor and passion that could fit into words. And if given the chance, there would be no one she’d rather have by her side. 

There was, though, still the teensy-tiny matter of him feeling the same way. 

“You know, though,” he joked, leaning back into the cart’s seat, “I was wrong about how I thought this night was going to go.” At that, Elena frowned. Had they not meant to end up here? Had the Ferris Wheel not been some bonding ploy? 

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?” 

“I was supposed to be the supportive best friend, the one who took you out for a fun night after Keller’d cancelled on you for the third time like an ass.” Mack shrugged, his previous expression fading. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out.” 

For her to find out what? That he was irrevocably in love with her? That their entire friendship had been a long farce? That he was moving out by the end of the week?  (Okay, maybe the last one was a little dramatic. Elena hoped Mack wouldn’t be inhumane enough to break that sort of news on a  _ Ferris wheel _ .) 

She took a deep breath, willing herself to find the strength to ask. “What didn’t you  want me to find out, Mack?” 

Mack sighed, palms spreading. “I love the way we work, Elena. I love how we barely function together playing _Overcooked_ and the fact that you try to beat me every time at _Mario Kart_. I love that being with you is always an adventure, even if we’re just going to Target. I love that you’re always there for me when I don’t even want to be there for myself. And I’m not saying you have to love me,” he said quickly, and amid the multiple synapses that were firing in her brain (he liked her! He didn’t hate her! She wasn’t going to have to move out!), she breathed a sigh of relief. A declaration of love wasn’t something she was sure she could handle right now. “But I’ve felt like there’s been something there for a long time, and I was wondering if it was something you saw, too.” 

There was a long silence before Elena spoke, the ocean breeze wafting through their basket and causing them to shiver a little. “I’m going to be honest with you,” she began, and Mack felt his heart drop several stories. “There’s a fair amount of people in my life that I’d hate to lose, and to lose you would be one of the worst things to ever happen to me.” Brown met hazel, and the soft smile she offered him was enough to make his eyes light up like the Empire State Building. “I see it too, Mack. And I’d love nothing more to explore the something with you.” 

“But I want to do it right.” When Mack opened his mouth to speak, she held up a  finger. “While Damon Keller is a bastard and a half I haven’t had feelings for in a long time, no one deserves to be cheated on. And you deserve more than to be the  rebound man.” 

“What does that mean, then?” 

“It means, then, that as soon as we get home, I break it off with Keller.” That was going to be a fun conversation, Elena mused. Maybe she could do it with a drink or two. No, that wouldn’t be right... “Then we wait. Two weeks is enough, I think, for him to lick his wounds and for the hounds of social media to die down. Two weeks.” 

“Two weeks,” Mack echoed, and she shot him another grin. “Two weeks it is,  then.” 

He could do two weeks. After all, he’d waited for quite some time – what was another two weeks after that?

* * *

**Conversation with: Yo-Yo**

**Turtleman:** Got any plans tonight? 

**Yo-Yo:** Professor May’s readings and a stiff drink, probably. Why? 

“You know, you’re right next to me,” Elena said, amused when Mack’s phone dinged. “Just tell me what you want to say, Turtleman. It’ll be much faster.” 

Mack swooped to kiss her cheek, grinning. The spot warmed, and she was suddenly reminded of the fact that it’d been two weeks since their confession on the Ferris Wheel. "It’s Friday night. Save your energy. 

“I’m taking you out on a date.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm taking requests from this list [here](https://justanalto.tumblr.com/post/622842304685834240/300-prompts) if you'd like to see one!


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